


Zwischenschach

by fucker



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Flirting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucker/pseuds/fucker
Summary: Chilton isn'teasy, he just has a type.
Relationships: Frederick Trumper/Dr. Frederick Chilton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/gifts).



> Sorry to sarahcakes, Thomas Harris, and half of ABBA 😬

"Doctor?"

Chilton froze with his drink halfway to his lips, heart pounding in his throat as he tried not to react to the title that was without a doubt directed at him. 

He wasn't a man that had many friends. He had coworkers and employees, and while he put on an amicable enough face at work, he had little desire to run into anyone he knew outside of hospital grounds. Especially not at such a severely compromising locale. He scanned the room out of the corner of his eye, but his strategic spot near the center of the bar had left him no easy way out through the sea of leather, tank tops and tight jeans.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Chilton reluctantly turned, expecting an old acquaintance or colleague but instead finding an unfamiliar man opposite him; a man that fit in perfectly with the scenery, despite Chilton never having seen him at any of the local bars before.

"I thought it was you. Remember me?" The look of confusion on Chilton's face must've spoken for itself, because the stranger extended a hand with a crooked smile. "Freddie."

Chilton almost scowled at the childish nickname, but quickly realized that the man was simply introducing himself. He straightened up to full height and returned the gesture, unable to help but note how firm the man's grip was. "Frederick Chilton, but you already knew that."

"I did." Freddie finished off the pint in his hand and set his empty glass down with a wave at the bartender. "You were the one that referred me to Doctor Lecter a few years ago. Not quite insane enough for your charming facility, I guess." 

The amused wink that he shot Chilton was what finally made it click, and the psychiatrist blinked in disbelief. The man— a professional chess player and, Chilton suspected, a genius or very close to— had nearly been committed a few years back after suffering a severe mental break, but Chilton had been reluctant to institutionalize him. He hadn't been a danger to anyone, and locking him up would've done more harm than good, though the prospect of having unrestricted access to his remarkable mind had been sorely tempting.

That had been almost five years ago, and he was near-unrecognizable now— he'd put on a healthy amount of weight that suited his frame and made him look _ younger _ somehow, especially in the face. He carried himself without a trace of his former slouch; back straight and broad shoulders back, emphasizing his solid upper body. Even the old, dated ducktail cut was gone, a subtle undercut in its place, casually styled with product that was just beginning to lose its hold. 

"Freddie Trumper," Chilton confirmed, a slight note of disbelief in his voice. "You look amazing, how long have you...?"

"Been sane? Medicated?" Freddie laughed and raised an arm to lean against the bar, ignoring Chilton's apologetic shrug. "Four years, give or take. A few slips here and there, nothing major."

"Good for you." Chilton reached out and gave the man's shoulder an encouraging squeeze without thinking about it, immediately discovering that he was exactly as solid as he looked. He felt himself redden slightly and quickly withdrew his hand, not wanting the gesture to be misinterpreted. "Really, Freddie, that's fantastic to hear."

"Thanks, Doc," Freddie beamed. "I have to admit, I didn't just come over to say hello."

"No?" Chilton took the opportunity to slide up onto the stool behind him, glad to have an excuse to continue their conversation. "What else did you need?"

"I was never technically your patient, right? Since you referred me straight to Hannibal, I mean."

"Correct, why?"

The bartender set a fresh pint in front of Freddie, who downed half of it before bothering to elaborate. "Well, because I assume there's some sort of law that prohibits fooling around with patients, and you look like you know how to make a man happy."

"I— I beg your pardon?"

"In bed," he needlessly explained, smirking slightly at the shocked expression on Chilton's face. "Come home with me."

The abrupt straightforwardness left Chilton at a slight loss for words, and he stuttered out the first thing that came to mind: "But I don't— I don't know you."

"That's not a no." Freddie raised an eyebrow and set his hand on Chilton's knee, testing the waters. He wasn't reprimanded or pushed away, so he doubled down on his advances and slid into Chilton's space, watching him carefully for a reaction. "What do you wanna know?"

"Um..." 

"Extrovert, Aries, seven inches, give or take. Top, but for you..." Freddie slid his hand further up Chilton's thigh and squeezed gently, his face splitting into a smug grin as the psychiatrist bit his lip with a small shiver. "Oh, still a top then, in that case."

Chilton swallowed hard. He wanted to protest at having been read so easily, but the thumb rubbing slow circles into his inseam had robbed him of his ability to trust his voice. Instead he shifted in his seat, subconsciously spreading his legs wider as he inched closer to Freddie.

"You're single, hot, and interested." Freddie hooked a finger in Chilton's collar and slowly, deliberately undid his top button, the look on his face daring Chilton to stop him. "Come on, let me get you out of here."

"My place," Chilton countered, for no reason other than to be contrary.

"Wherever you want." Freddie pushed another button through its hole, dragging a fingertip down the flushed, heated skin of Chilton's chest just to watch him squirm. "Gonna have to drag you to the bathroom if you keep me waiting much longer, though."

That was enough to spur Chilton into action. He slipped two bills under his empty glass and slid off the stool onto trembling legs, swallowing a moan as Freddie took the opportunity to squeeze his ass. He grabbed his jacket and made a beeline for the exit, only stopping to make sure Freddie was with him.

A step ahead, Chilton turned once the door had swung shut on the near-deafening music. "Give or take?" he asked, fully prepared to blame the alcohol for the color on his cheeks if need be. 

"Give." Freddie understood the question immediately, and he took Chilton's hand, pulled it to his crotch, and laced their fingers together over the sizable bulge in his pants. "That gonna be an issue?"

"No." Chilton gave him a rough squeeze, stomach clenching hard when he got a low growl in return. "Not at all."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is close enough to the prompt, I know it's not _technically_ edging 🥴

Chilton had been stealing glances at the man sitting next to him the whole ride, oddly enamored with the way his hair flopped onto his forehead every time the car hit a bump or pothole and desperately trying to ignore the way that one hand was shamelessly kneading at the considerable erection in his pants. He’d almost crashed the damn car when Freddie unbuckled his belt and tucked that same hand down the front of his own jeans, sorely tempted to pull over and beg for a pounding across the backseat right there on the side of the road. The overwhelming desire was only tempered by the knowledge that they were less than two miles from his house, and Chilton, determined to make it to the couch at least, tore his eyes away from the man's lap and stepped on the gas as hard as he dared.

Freddie looked _good_ getting out of Chilton's car. Like he belonged there. Worn black leather, cherry red enamel and chrome, all illuminated in the warm glow from the porch light as he unfolded himself from the passenger seat and pushed the door shut with his hip. He stretched, both arms over his head and a crescent of pale skin visible where his shirt rode up his belly, revealing a trail of dark hair that widened slightly just before disappearing below his waistband.

Chilton turned away and muttered a quiet curse, gravel crunching under his feet as he all but ran for the front door. It was difficult to get his key in the lock with Freddie on the stoop behind him grinding insistently against his ass. He fumbled with it for what felt like minutes on end, heart racing and blood pounding in his ears, his hands steadily becoming shakier every time the key slipped away from its slot.

"Hurry up," Freddie complained, reaching around Chilton's hip to feel him up through his trousers. 

Starting, Chilton doubled his efforts, his head spinning as a sudden rush of precome wet the front of his briefs in response to Freddie's groping. Still unsatisfied with the psychiatrist's sense of urgency, or lack thereof, Freddie grabbed the keys from his trembling fingers, jammed the correct one into the lock and shoved the door open, herding Chilton inside with a hard smack to his ass.

"So." Freddie kicked the door shut, tossed the keys aside, and took two carefully calculated steps forward as Chilton turned to face him, leaving a scant half-inch of breathing room between them. He crowded the psychiatrist against the wall, one hand gripping his thigh and the other fisted in his waistband, keeping him firmly in place. "How do we do this?"

Freddie was his size, maybe a touch broader and a few pounds heavier, but he carried himself with such a sense of assertiveness and authority that he felt bigger. Not just in presence, but physically. Chilton found himself slouching against the wall, instinctively putting himself below eye level to heighten the feeling of being towered over; the feeling that always left him heated and slightly breathless. He swallowed hard, praying that he didn't look quite as desperate as he felt.

"You do whatever you want to me, and I worry about not coming in my pants."

"I like the sound of that." Freddie wrapped a hand around Chilton's throat with just enough pressure to make his eyes widen, a mix of arousal, trepidation, and intense desire swimming in the psychiatrist's blown pupils. "Whatever I want?"

Chilton covered Freddie's hand with his own and squeezed, his breath hitching as Freddie took the hint and tightened his grip. " _Anything_."

"Bedroom?"

"Upstairs."

"Show me." Freddie sent him bounding towards the back of the house with another smack to his ass.

Employing a remarkable amount of restraint in not taking the stairs two at a time, Chilton led him to the bedroom and stopped a few paces past the door, but the instructions he was waiting for didn't come. He let out a squeak of surprise as Freddie strode into the room, scooped him up without hesitation and fell backwards into bed, barely having the presence of mind to catch himself on his hands and knees before he landed full-force on the man's chest. 

He looked down, itching to start moving things along but unsure of where to begin. Kissing seemed like a safe bet, and he bent to brush his lips against Freddie's only to pull away a second later; mortified as he felt the man break into a grin against his mouth. He sat up, terrified that he'd misjudged the situation completely, but the smirk on Freddie's face was amused rather than mocking.

"Don't get shy on me, I know you want more than that. C'mere." Freddie looped an arm around his waist and pulled hard enough that Chilton's knees gave out, bringing their hips flush with each other.

Chilton moaned before he could stop himself, his zipper digging into his erection as he ground against the solid, promising bulge in Freddie's jeans. He buried his face in Freddie's shirt, stifling his soft gasps and whines against the man's muscular chest as he continued to rock back and forth in his lap, cock leaking steadily into his underwear from the friction. 

"You have anywhere to be tomorrow?"

Chilton was too distracted to be confused by the question, and he shook his head automatically before diving into the triangle of exposed skin between the open buttons of Freddie's shirt, coarse hair tickling his nose as he kissed and licked at Freddie's chest.

"Good." Freddie took Chilton by the jaw— a tight, overhanded grip that made his stomach twist with a burning surge of want— and pulled his head up, examining him for a long moment. "I like the beard."

"Thank— _nhh_ —"

A hot mouth at his throat effectively silenced him and he had to squeeze his eyes shut, suddenly dizzy from the dull pain of blood vessels bursting between Freddie's lips. Freddie marked him three times, a neat line from collarbone to jaw, Chilton's whimpers becoming louder and increasingly shameless with each carefully-placed bruise. The final one tore a curse from him, his pulse pounding hard and hot in his throat as his cock throbbed in response.

Freddie sat up for a moment to pull his jacket off and Chilton was hit with a wave of his scent; one that he easily recognized as Versace. Between the cologne, the scuffed combat boots, the Aviators hanging from the neck of his black henley and the string of Hugo Boss logos half-visible above his waistband, he was the picture of cocksure masculinity— not the tired, tacky put-on that Chilton encountered all too often, but genuine, easy confidence with an air of arrogance about him that seemed to run bone-deep.

He didn't have time to dwell on it. Freddie made quick work of his remaining buttons and slipped both hands under Chilton's thin shirt, easing it over his shoulders and looking his half-naked body up and down with a hungry appreciation that sent goosebumps racing across Chilton's bare shoulders. 

"Off," Freddie demanded, grabbing a fistful of the psychiatrist's trousers and pulling impatiently. "I wanna see what you're packing."

Chilton stood for a moment to fumble frantically with his fly, crawling back on top of Freddie as soon as he had kicked his pants and briefs off. Any feelings of self-consciousness were overpowered by desperate need, and he pushed himself to his knees to present himself, cock glistening with precome and bobbing gently in the air just above Freddie's distended fly. 

"Big boy," Freddie murmured, wrapping a warm hand around the psychiatrist and giving him a few slow strokes, just rough enough to make him buck in pleasure. "Mine too."

Eager to finally see what he'd be dealing with, Chilton didn't hesitate for a second, unbuttoning Freddie's tight jeans and tugging them down over his ass as the man lifted his hips off the bed. The scene underneath was stunning— Freddie was as big as promised and then some, grey boxer briefs hugging his thick, cut cock so tightly that very little was left to the imagination. Chilton's eyes were instantly drawn to the head where the cotton was damp with precome and clinging to Freddie's skin, showing off the ridge of his crown and the tiny indent of his slit in perfect, mouthwatering detail.

He swallowed hard, hands hovering an inch above Freddie's crotch. "May I?"

"Mmm," Freddie spread his legs wider and released his grip on Chilton's cock, watching him intently for a reaction. "Be my guest."

Chilton slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband and slowly pulled it away from Freddie's erection, freeing him and letting him rise to full attention. He knew the man's eyes were on him, but he couldn't help the way he throbbed in arousal, mouth falling open at the sight of that beautiful cock resting on Freddie's stomach. Stacked up side by side, he certainly held his own in length, but Freddie's girth put him to shame and the realization was enough to make Chilton's balls draw up in anticipation. 

"All yours," Freddie grinned and deliberately made himself jump under the psychiatrist's hungry gaze, leaving a trail of precome behind on his shirt that caught the light as he moved.

It was a generous offer. Chilton lowered his hips to line himself up with Freddie, bracing himself on his elbows as he pressed their hard cocks together— Freddie to the left; himself on the right— and used his weight to pin them in place. Half-expecting to be pushed off or laughed at, he closed his eyes and gave a slow, cautious thrust into the tight space between their bodies, humming softly at the warm drag of Freddie's skin against his own.

Met with no mockery or protest, he dropped his head to Freddie's shoulder and rolled his hips again with a suggestive moan, met with a grunt of approval from the man beneath him. A slick trail of precome on his stomach was making itself known with every rush of air between them as he continued to thrust against Freddie, and Chilton briefly wondered whose it was. It would be so easy to come like this, pinned tight between Freddie's stomach and his own. A little lube might help things along, but by no means would it be necessary with the way both men were already breathing hard, cocks twitching and drooling freely with every brush of heated skin against skin.

"There you go, that's it." Freddie gripped the backs of Chilton's thighs, kneading at tight muscles as he slowly worked both hands up towards the psychiatrist's ass. "Haven't done this in a while."

"Me neither," Chilton admitted, his voice shaking slightly. 

"Feels good?"

" _God_ , yes." He turned his head to run his tongue along the curve of Freddie's ear, getting a hard, wet throb against his belly and a rough squeeze to his ass in response. "I love your cock."

Freddie groaned when his roaming fingers discovered the end of the plug nestled between Chilton's cheeks. He gave it a rough twist, the psychiatrist shuddering in his lap as he struggled to control himself. "Fuck, you didn't wanna mention this?"

"Take it out," Chilton begged, pushing back against him and feeling the resistance from Freddie's palms spread him ever so slightly. " _Please_."

"Take it out?" Freddie fingered the warm steel in consideration, each minute movement sending searing impulses up the length of Chilton's cock. "Show me."

He obediently rolled off of Freddie's lap and onto his hands and knees, ass in the air. Freddie knelt behind him and Chilton braced himself in anticipation, toes curling as he was roughly spread open and cool air rushed over his exposed entrance. He was prepared for the familiar tug of the metal slipping out, but not for it to be shoved deeper— it felt as though Freddie's full weight was behind the push, and the small part of Chilton's brain that hadn't instantly short-circuited with a debilitating combination of pain and pleasure feared for a moment that the plug might actually slip inside entirely.

His cock jerked and he used what little focus he could muster to get a grip; trembling slightly as Freddie eased up on him and gave the toy another twist. Chilton whimpered and pushed it out as far as he could, until the rounded body met his entrance and began to press against him from the inside out. He could feel Freddie's appraising gaze on him; feel himself turning pink in the cheeks from the intimate attention, and he had to resist the urge to bury his head under a pillow. 

A warm, wet fingertip slipped under the base and traced a tight circle around the plug, teasing Chilton's tender rim until he began to tighten erratically, twitching around the metal with a series of soft whimpers. He was hot and breathless and on edge, his cock throbbing insistently in time with his pounding heart, balls achingly tight, every muscle in his body straining as he tried to keep himself under control. 

Chilton wanted Freddie's mouth, but he was in no position to ask for it. He dropped his shoulders to the sheets and arched his back, trying to make himself look as appetizing as possible, but instead of bending down to give him what he wanted, Freddie wet his finger again, pressed against the psychiatrist's spread hole, and eased his way in alongside the slick steel. One knuckle slipped in, then two, and the sudden deep, warm stretch was better than any rimjob Chilton had ever gotten.

" _Oh, fuck, I think I'm—_ "

"No." Freddie didn't pause for a second, continuing to push against the curve of the plug until the fingers that weren't buried in the psychiatrist met his perineum. "Hold it."

" _Christ_." Chilton gritted his teeth, grabbed at the base of his cock and squeezed hard, doing everything in his power to restrain himself. It wasn't easy, held wide open with Freddie's fingertip moving bare millimeters from his prostate, but he slowly forced the warm pressure back down to a manageable level. " _Yes, sir_."

"Sir," Freddie repeated, withdrawing his finger partway only to push back in, forcing Chilton to grip himself again with a strangled curse. "I like that."

Chilton didn't have the brainpower to even begin to formulate a response, but Freddie didn't particularly seem to be looking for one. The man pumped his finger in and out of Chilton's ass again, tearing a shuddering gasp from him.

"Shame you never locked me up, Doc. We coulda been doing this _years_ ago."

Chilton wanted to protest; to insist that never in a million years would he consider taking advantage of a patient or doing anything to compromise their safety, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a high-pitched moan as Freddie finally managed to work deep enough around the toy to brush his prostate. 

"Take it out," he begged again, a frantic note of desperation in his voice. He twisted away from Freddie's hands to alleviate the overwhelming need to come, but Freddie moved with him. " _Oh, God, I need you to take it out_."

It was one of the few practical toys that he owned; a small body attached to a hefty stem, designed to keep the owner spread open and prepared while offering minimal internal stimulation— so small, in fact, that it barely stretched him at all as it easily slipped out and fell into Freddie's palm. A tiny, residual trickle of lube followed close behind that was quickly collected with a fingertip and rubbed roughly over his hole.

"Need more?"

"No— no, it's..." Chilton had neither the words nor the patience to explain that he'd slicked himself up both inside and out in preparation for the evening, so he simply reached back with both hands and spread his ass wide open in invitation. " _Just fuck me_."

He couldn't help himself— it was the small pop of Freddie's crown slipping inside that set him off. He came with a hoarse shout, his cock spasming untouched between his legs as he shot his load across the bed with loud, careless moans. Freddie froze in surprise and Chilton grabbed helplessly at his shirt, twisting a hand in the fabric and pulling as he felt himself tighten hard around the head of Freddie's erection. 

" _Don't stop_ ," he gasped, " _don't stop, don't stop, keep going_."

"Keep going?" Freddie grabbed him by the waist and thrust forward, hips slamming against the psychiatrist's ass with jarring force as he bottomed out in Chilton's strained hole. He moved from side to side, stretching him further, before pulling back for another powerful thrust that made Chilton’s teeth knock together.

" _Yes, fuck_ —" Chilton sobbed as a second wave of pleasure hit him, blooming in his lower belly as he shook helplessly in the man's grip. He tightened again, another thick spurt of come hitting the sheets between his knees and blood pounding so loudly in his ears that he barely registered Freddie’s rough groan.

"I'm not finished," Freddie warned. His voice was gruff but no longer demanding, leaving room for Chilton to protest; to tap out if needed. "How do you wanna make me come?"

"Oh, God." While Chilton appreciated having options, he barely had the energy to keep breathing, let alone make any decisions. “ _However you want_.”

“Mmm?” Freddie didn’t stop moving, shallowly fucking the psychiatrist while he considered his options. Finally he pulled out with a hard smack to Chilton’s ass, only serving to intensify his post-orgasm shakes for a moment. “Turn over, I’m gonna make you come again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to [message](https://fuckerao3.tumblr.com/ask) or [DM](https://www.tumblr.com/message/fuckerao3) me with questions, suggestions, or requests (no promises), or if you'd like to beta!


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